Good Hotel Guide
Hostels and Hotels in Coventry
Do you have a hotel or B&B in any of these locations then please contact us to list your hotel below, free of charge.
Atherstone, Bedworth, Kenilworth, Leamington Spa, Nuneaton, Rugby, Shipston-On-Stour, Southam, Stratford-Upon-Avon, Warwick, Coventry
For UK travelers going abroad, we recommend Tenerife, with feel of the UK yet all the sun of Tenerife. Read an extract below from More Ketchup than Salsa, the story of a English couple who left the UK to set up life in Tenerife. Info on how to buy the book can be found below.
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Below you will find short extracts from More ketchup than Salsa by Joe Cawley – not to be missed.
Short Extract
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Charley poured four glasses of champagne and we toasted her new job and extended holiday. Have you noticed the jeep that parks outside our house some nights?’ I asked Charley. I noticed Charley’s cheeks flushing. ‘No, I can’t say I have,’ she replied. There’s a man that sits in it all night, watching. He makes us kind of edgy. I’m thinking about calling the police. What do you think?
Atherstone, Bedworth, Kenilworth, Leamington Spa, Nuneaton, Rugby, Shipston-On-Stour, Southam, Stratford-Upon-Avon, Warwick, Coventry
Joy went straight to bed while I sat on the patio, beer in hand gazing at the most vivid sky I had ever seen. With no light pollution, the velvet black was awash with blinking stars. It seemed infinitely clearer, as though we had been looking at it through dirty glasses in England. This clarity extended further, though. We had now chosen a path and were actually on it rather than dreaming about it. This was a success in itself. Yes, we had made mistakes, some more than others, and yes, there was still a mountain to climb before we knew what we were doing, but we had made a start. Result 32 people fed, zero poisoned. My mind was whirring with thoughts of what had gone on that night and what we had to do tomorrow. I started to make a mental list. I awoke to the sensation of beer racing down my leg, the bottle tilted on my lap. I left the warm night air and flopped on top of the sheets next to Joy. It seemed that within minutes the alarm was frantically trying to stir us both to life. For a moment my brain clicked into autopilot, preparing to go through the rituals of a normal market day: reluctantly pushing off the thick quilt followed by a rapid dash to the cold bathroom; standing at the sink with my hands in hot water to warm up; flattening down my errant hair; piling on layer upon layer of warm clothes before unwillingly leaving the relative shelter of the house and dashing out into the pouring rain; watching in disgust as the first bus of the day pulled away from the bus stop.
Siobhan’s mood did lighten however, when we told her about the plan, and even though it meant that she would have to get on a plane to Tenerife herself, she was somewhat heartened that action was now being taken. In the meantime, we had appointed a ‘team of detectives’ to find out more about the couple of squatters. Barry, our occasional helper, was put on static surveillance duty. Before becoming an airborne trolley dolly he had flirted briefly with the police force, and thus was deemed the most qualified. His job was to keep track of the movements in and out of Siobhan’s apartment. He stationed himself at a bay window seat in the apartment of Mrs Tanner, one of El Beril’s elderly year-round residents, diagonally opposite to Siobhan’s. Not only did he have a clear view of the steps leading up to the one and only entrance to the apartment, but he also had an unlimited supply of tea and home-made scones that Mrs Tanner forced on him with remarkable regularity. Wayne was assigned to tail Pedro in the Smugglersmobile (when we weren’t loading it with beans and tuna). We were curious to find out what the Spaniard did during the day and whether he worked or not. Wayne, not one of the world’s most patient characters, said he would have preferred to just beat him up and torture our requirements out of him. I explained that this would invariably lead to me being arrested, and thus he would more than likely be out of a job with us. Frank took on the last of our tasks, accompanied by his detective sidekick and Spanish translator, Danny. They were to take the Polaroids to the Hotel Conquistador and make enquiries as to whether the Czech girl was actually working there.